[Studying the tea chest, Wilhelm settles on something that's just a small step away from basic black — it's supposed to taste like cinnamon. He's just plopped the bag into the steaming water when Claude compares him to an old friend, and the word prince causes him to wobble his saucer involuntarily. His attempt to steady the cup results in some of the soon-to-be-tea splashing out. Smooth.]
Oh, really? [What the hell is he supposed to say to that? He scratches at his temple, idly twisting a strand of hair.] My mom was always big on manners. I guess I just do it without really thinking about it sometimes.
[Anyway. Now that Claude's pointed it out, he does try to relax his posture a notch.]
no subject
Tea's fine, thanks.
[Studying the tea chest, Wilhelm settles on something that's just a small step away from basic black — it's supposed to taste like cinnamon. He's just plopped the bag into the steaming water when Claude compares him to an old friend, and the word prince causes him to wobble his saucer involuntarily. His attempt to steady the cup results in some of the soon-to-be-tea splashing out. Smooth.]
Oh, really? [What the hell is he supposed to say to that? He scratches at his temple, idly twisting a strand of hair.] My mom was always big on manners. I guess I just do it without really thinking about it sometimes.
[Anyway. Now that Claude's pointed it out, he does try to relax his posture a notch.]
So how did you meet? Your friend.